


I'm Awfully Fond of You

by VivWiley



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, F/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:44:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivWiley/pseuds/VivWiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In general, Veronica does not think of herself as a girly girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Awfully Fond of You

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after the Season 2 finale, so assume spoilers up to that point.

In general, Veronica does not think of herself as a girly girl. In point of fact, she's pretty certain no one thinks of her as a girly girl. Probably not even her dad, for all that he occasionally jokes about her being his little princess. Well, he really only made that joke once – the look she'd thrown him after that had pretty well squelched even the irrepressible Keith Mars.

So, anyway. Not a girly girl. That being said, there simply are moments when the only thing in the world that is going to solve your problems, or at least hold them at bay for a while, is a bubble bath. 

She scooted a little lower in the tub and ran her hands carefully along the tops of the bubbles. The soft brush of the Coconut Lime Verbena foam tickling the palms of her damp hands. She rolled her neck, and settled her head against the back of the tub. Yup, sometimes, life just called for a bubble bath. Now, if she'd only thought to bring her devil rubber ducky with her. That would have been the perfect decoration for this day.

Ripples in the water alerted her to the fact that she was impatiently tapping her foot. Damn it! The whole point of this was to relax. Let it go. Let it all go.

She breathed out and in. She could almost hear the voice of her 9th grade health teacher, Mrs. Kendrick's all too Southern California goofy voice, "in with the pure, healthy thoughts, class, out with the bad." Uh huh. Like that was going to work on a pack of rabid 14-year olds who had just sat through the first of what promised to be 8 excruciating weeks of sex "education."

And no, recollections of sex education class weren't helping either.

Right on cue, the phone rang. And, of course, there was a phone in the bathroom.

She squelched around, quickly dried her hand on the nearest convenient towel and picked it up. "Yes?" She knew she sounded snotty and miffed. She really didn't care.

"Veronica!"

"Dad?" Relief warred with something she dimly recognized as disappointment. "Where are you?"

"Honey, I'm so sorry I missed the flight." She rolled her eyes, stopped, and then completed the motion as she realized that her Dad didn't actually have X-Ray vision, particularly not from all the way across the country. She made no attempt to stifle the huff that preceded her reply, "What happened? I mean I got your text message at the airport once I got to a place with reception, but I still don't understand."

"I don't really think I should...I don't think I should discuss that on the phone. Veronica, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. What's up?" A horrible, selfish thought welled up. "Do I need to come back?" She really didn't want to. On the other hand, if she came back, there was a certain boy waiting for her.

"No, no. I'm going to catch the red-eye and I'll be there at some ungodly hour in morning." 

"Oh. Good. This means we still get to go to Soho and the MoMA and..." She heard his relieved laugh. "No, honey, I keep telling you: Shea Stadium, Yankee Stadium..."

She could laugh back. "Okay, we'll figure out a compromise of some kind. You'll be here in the morning and you're okay?"

His voice hit that Dad range she needed more than she sometimes realized. "I'm fine, and I promise I'll explain everything when I get out there. I wouldn't have missed that flight for anything, Veronica. It's just that Kendall...well, I'll explain when I get there. Promise." And that, really, was all she needed to hear. She hung up after getting him to repeat his flight information twice. The second time was just to torture him.

She added some more hot water, and slid back to her comfortable reclining position, considerably more relaxed than 15 minutes earlier. 

She was contemplating exactly which stores she was going to drag him through as revenge for the whole missed flight and not to mention worried out of her skull thing, when her cell phone chimed. It was Logan.

"Hey." She knew she had a different voice for Logan; sometimes she tried not to think too hard about it.

"Hey, yourself. What are you wearing?" The boy was uncanny.

"Would you hurt yourself falling down if I told you 'nothing'?" There was a long pause during which she thought she heard a faint gulp. God she loved this power.

"Really?" She could hear him torn between hope and lust.

"Yeah," she moved quickly so the water would slosh audibly. "I'm in the tub." This time the gulp was audible. She tried not to snicker. At least not out loud.

"I'm trying to think of something to say here that will make me sound witty and suave and not at all like I just about passed out."

"Oh no! My boyfriend isn't all suave?"

"Baby. I'm all something. Are you really in the tub? You're not just swishing water around the sink?"

"Damn. You're on to all my nefarious tricks. What do I have to say to convince you," she deliberately dropped her voice, a little lower, a little sexier, "that I'm sitting in the tub, all slippery and naked and thinking of you?" And blushing furiously, she added to herself, but he really didn't need to know that.

"Say no more," she was impressed that he managed to avoid the cheesy Python imitation. "I believe you." She could hear the familiar smirk in his voice. "Hang on for a sec." She heard him put the phone down and then strange rustling in the background. She thought that was a door and something....was that water? 

"Uh...Logan?" She wasn't sure he could even hear her. "Logan?"

"I'm back." He sounded a little breathless. 

"Do I want to know..."

"I thought we could bathe together."

"What?!"

"Well, since you're in the tub out there, I thought I'd get in the tub out here...ah...that's nice and hot." And sure enough, she could hear water sloshing. He wouldn't really? Would he? But this was Logan. Of course he would. She had no idea what to say next.

"Anyway," he sounded far too relaxed, "I figure this is probably the only way I can take a bath with you without, one, your father trying to kill me, and two this early in our relationship." A splash, and the sound of taps being cut off. "Well, it's not that early in our relationship, but you know what I mean. And, I refer you back to point one – your father not killing us...me."

"Don't be so sure about that. My dad has some pretty old fashioned ideas about protecting his daughter's virtue."

He laughed at that. "Well, I think even your dad would have to be mostly okay with this."

"Mostly?"

"Well, if he found out about it, he might frown disapprovingly at me the next time we see each other, but I doubt he'd actually cause bodily harm."

"How will you distinguish that frown of disapproval from the one he normally he gives you?"

"That's the beauty of being a well-known bad boy, I don't have to."

She heard more splashing. "Logan? What are you doing?"

"Why, Veronica." The familiar mocking tone, only now she could hear the warmth lurking under it. "Don't tell me you are unfamiliar with the uses of a wash cloth?"

"I most certainly am not." She stretched her leg up, letting the water slide down, enjoying the brief cool against her skin. "But girls, you see, get in tubs for entirely different reasons than the mere utilitarian notion of getting clean. There's a whole other...sensuous side to it. It's an experience."

"Miss Mars, you shock me! You mean to say there are other things you can do in tubs?"

"I mean to say."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, reading?"

She could almost hear him leaning back, relaxing. "What about libraries?"

"Too full of the riff-raff."

"What else do you do in tubs? I seem to recall you using the word 'sensuous'." His voice dropping to that other register, the one that made her shiver just a little.

"Well, I've heard stories..."

"Stories, huh?" 

"Well, the girls in the locker room were talking...."

"Uh huh."

"And they mentioned something about...accessories."

"Really, now." It was fun. She had forgotten how much fun they could have together.

"Yeah – things made out of..." She needed a pause to collect herself; let it spin out a bit. "...rubber."

"Rubber?" 

"In strange, almost natural shapes."

She could almost see his face – hovering somewhere between distrust on general principle, and glee at where he hoped this might go.

"What sort of shapes?"

"Ones that are close, but not really quite...right."

"Oh? Can you describe them for me?

"Birds."

"Birds?" He was starting to snicker, knowing he'd been had.

"Yeah, you may have heard of them? Rubber duckies?"

"Ah yes, the infamous Rubber Duckies of the Girls' Locker Room. I have heard the tales." He paused so she could groaningly acknowledge his pun.

"So, do you have any of those...accessories?"

"Well, not with me. It's awfully lonely." She pouted charmingly knowing he'd know what she was doing.

"Such a shame. I'm sure if I were there, I could do something to...distract you."

"I'm sure you could – my father beating up a boy always distracts me."

"Right." A slosh from 3,000 miles away. "So, what shall we do?" 

"How about you tell me how you spent your day?"

And he did, and then she told him about the trip and Keith missing the plane, and their plans for tomorrow when he'd get there. And they said some surprisingly mushy stuff to each other. Particularly surprising for a non-girly girl. But there are just times when you have to play against type.

By the time she was completely prune-like and had had to warm the water 3 times, she was yawning, but very happy.

"Logan?"

"Hmmm?" She'd interrupted some monolog about the Sharks' chance for the next season now that their owner was dead. She had no idea how they'd wound up there, but really didn't care.

"I gotta go get some sleep."

"Yeah. Thanks for the bath, Veronica."

"You too. I'll call you tomorrow."

"You'd better."

She slept better than she had in a long time.

When she went down to breakfast the next morning, the desk clerk waved her over. "Miss Mars?"

"Yes?" 

"I have a delivery for you." She had the impression that he was about to say something else, but clearly his training held, as he reached behind the desk and handed her a basket elaborately wrapped in cellophane and many colors of ribbons.

It contained two dozen rubber duckies of every known color, shape and variety.

It was a very good day.


End file.
